


One Small Thing Can Change the Course of History (excerpt)

by Emsiecat



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarves in the Shire, Hair Braiding, M/M, Oblivious Bilbo, Or maybe not so oblivious, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin is a schmoop, excerpt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/pseuds/Emsiecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*This is not a finished fic! This is merely a tiny excerpt I enjoyed writing too much not to share right now!*</p><p>After being unable to open the door into Erebor, Bilbo and the dwarves; discouraged and despondent, make their way back down the mountain and prepare to return to Laketown to retrieve their comrades who are still there and then return to their respective homes.<br/>Noticing the general air of upset surrounding them, especially their leader, Bilbo does the only thing a gentlehobbit can in such a situation; offers for the dwarves to return with him to the Shire for a 'holiday' of sorts. A way to recuperate before they return to Ered Luin and break the unfortunate news that they could not enter Erebor in time to retake it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Small Thing Can Change the Course of History (excerpt)

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a finished piece and the excerpt does in fact take place part way into the story, so if that sort of thing bothers you, it might be best not to read any further (though to be honest I've no idea whether I'll manage to write the whole fic or not anyway so I guess this could be read as an odd little stand alone piece.
> 
> To avoid confusion, here is some information on the events that lead up to this scene:
> 
> After being unable to open the door into Erebor, Bilbo and the dwarves; discouraged and despondent, make their way back down the mountain and prepare to return to Laketown to retrieve their comrades who are still there and then return to their respective homes.  
> Noticing the general air of upset surrounding them, especially their leader, Bilbo does the only thing a gentlehobbit can in such a situation; offers for the dwarves to return with him to the Shire for a 'holiday' of sorts. A way to recuperate before they return to Ered Luin and break the unfortunate news that they could not enter Erebor in time to retake it. The dwarves agree, are grateful, and so continue back to Laketown.
> 
> Upon reaching Laketown, the dwarves find that in their absence not only has Kíli been healed by Tauriel, but also their kin's lives saved by her and the prince of Mirkwood after a pack of orcs attacked Bard's house. Bard has unfortunately been taken prisoner by the master of Laketown and his children are now left fatherless and in distress.
> 
> Deciding they cannot leave the family like this, the dwarves and Bilbo manage to break Bard free from prison (after all what is a prison of Men compared to the dungeons of Mirkwood?) Regarding the act as chivalrous, and with some cajoling from Tauriel and Bilbo both, Legolas decides there would be no honour in trying to recapture the dwarves, and so he grants them pardon as well as returning Orcrist to Thorin once Bilbo explains that Elrond all but gifted the sword to their leader back in Rivendell.
> 
> Realising they cannot stay in Laketown (Bard is now a wanted fugitive, and the dwarves will no longer be welcome due to their failure to reclaim the mountain and bring back gold), the group band together and leave.
> 
> Legolas decides that the safest course of action would be for Bard and his family to stay in Thranduil's kingdom for a while until they can figure out where to go from there; reassuring Bard that his father will be willing to grant the family refuge as the people of Laketown have served their kingdom well and Bard is innocent.
> 
> Tauriel agrees and states that she will guide the dwarves through Mirkwood, and whilst she's away Legolas can broach the subject of letting the dwarves be and forgiving Tauriel for leaving the kingdom when she did with his father. 
> 
> Over the next couple of days, the rag-tag group manage to slowly set aside differences and come to an uneasy truce of sorts, and Bilbo begins to notice that poor Thorin is turning inwards and blaming himself solely for the failure of the quest. 
> 
> As a unit, the dwarves and Bilbo do their best to console their leader, and it is here, before they reach Mirkwood proper, that this scene takes place; when Thorin decides he deserves a form of self-punishment for his failures as a king and leader of the Company.

## Back to Mirkwood

Bilbo woke the next morning before dawn had properly broken, the pre-dawn chorus of birds unfortunately drowned out by the unmistakable sound of shouting dwarves. It took him but a moment to stop himself from leaping from his bed-roll and drawing Sting on instinct, adrenaline ebbing as his sleep addled brain caught up with his impulse and soothed his nerves, verifying that no calamity or attack had befallen them, and that this clamour was simple arguing.

His thoughts were confirmed upon opening bleary eyes to rest upon Bard's children situated a short distance away; clearly watching whatever proceedings took place over his shoulder with equal measures shock and mild amusement. Bilbo winced at the coarse language making its way to them, but as Bard had yet to step in or voice his concerns, and the children didn't appear disturbed by the cursing, Bilbo presumed perhaps they were used to such rough language having grown up in a poor town.

Bain was making a token effort at least, his hands clamped resolutely over little Tilda's ears. It was proven a useless endeavour however, as Tilda could quite plainly hear whatever was being said since she clearly giggled as Bilbo slurred out a groggy and rather grumpy greeting.

"I don't suppose any of you have had one of those mornings where you wish you'd never bothered to wake up? I fear I may have one of those today if this is the mess I wake up to."

"Indeed master hobbit, it may be better for your sanity that you sleep the day entirely away. If the shouting did not make it so difficult for me to do so, I'd be tempted to do as much myself." The voice that answered him was that of Legolas, stood with his back against a tree some distance away; flanked by both Tauriel and a concerned looking Kíli. The elf prince had something close to a smirk about his lips and he shook his head infinitesimally as the argument grew to a crescendo beyond Bilbo.

"- bad enough you kept your beard clipped close and so long after the need for grieving was done; now you've gone and shorn yourself like a damned sheep!"

"I have done what I feel I must!"

"Aye, of course you have, but mark me there'll be those in Ered Luin who will think less of you for it!"

Bilbo winced at Dwalin's bellow and decided that despite his misgivings it was high time he learnt what idiocy had befallen their Company this time and so early in the morning at that.

Pushing himself up to sit cross legged upon his bed-roll, Bilbo pulled his blanket about his shoulders to ward off the damp chill that hung in the air. The meadow they had camped in was still shrouded in mist (the sun had not yet had time to rise high enough to burn it off he noted bitterly). Deciding to give both Dwalin and Thorin a very sound piece of his mind for waking them all so early, for the king's had unmistakably been the second shouting voice, Bilbo found any comment he may have given died upon his lips when he turned and faced the scene before him and all he could do then was gape.

Dwalin and Thorin stood nearly nose-to-nose, red in the face from shouting at one another. This in itself was not particularly remarkable. As loyal as Dwalin was to his king; they had on the odd occasion come to blows as very old and close friends were wont to do. Usually such bickering was simply forgiven and forgotten quickly, or else they tussled (as seemed to be the way with dwarves) and the whole ordeal was simply beaten out of the realm of necessity. The argument itself was not what had Bilbo gaping, no, but rather the obvious cause for it.  

Orcrist lay unsheathed at Thorin's feet, as if he'd had it in his hand sometime before and then threw it aside once confronted by his old friend. In his hands now, he held great chunks of his own hair, braids and all. His head as Dwalin had pointed out, now resembled a hastily shorn sheep.

"What in all of Arda have you done to yourself?" The question rang clearer than he intended given the sudden lull in conversation around them. However, he had not spoken with any sense of distaste, merely bewilderment.

In the months he had come to know the dwarves he had learnt only a little about their culture and the way they did things. They were a very secretive race, and Bilbo respected that as much as possible, being someone who enjoyed his own privacy as well. However, he had come to learn through various conversations with the younger and more open members of their group that hair, beards, and braids, were seen as something important in dwarrow culture. Much like hobbits took pride in the fur upon their feet; dwarves took careful care of their beards and hair wherever possible. They preferred to grow one or the other if not both long as a rule, and he had learnt that one would not cut either short unless under quite severe circumstances. It was not only a cultural thing, but an aesthetic preference too. He recalled Bofur telling him in hushed tones and under oath of secrecy that were it not for being of royal blood, Kíli would be looked down upon for his simple hairstyle and mournful lack of facial hair. Others found it unattractive at best, a sign of weakness at worst.

Which definitely explained the younger dwarf having a tendency toward recklessness; he obviously felt he had to prove himself… So why by everything green and good in the world had Thorin willingly just hacked off his own hair?

"There, you see? Even the hobbit thinks you're a fool." Dwalin had the courtesy to step back from his king now, but waved a hand toward Bilbo to emphasise his point.

"What? No I didn't mean it like-" Bilbo nearly groaned when he noticed how Thorin's head hung low and he refused to look at any of the Company. He felt shamed.

It was all well and good Dwalin flying into a rage like that and trying to make his friend see sense through 'tough love', but what was done was done and in Thorin's current mind-set, despairing as it was, Bilbo couldn't help but feel this was not the best way to go about things.

Casting a furtive glance about the other dwarves, he could see his suppositions were unfortunately correct. Despite doing their best to appear unfazed by what their king had just done, there were few who could look at him for long, and others were grimacing and tugging at their own hair as discreetly as possible as if to make sure theirs was still intact.

This was ridiculous.

Huffing, Bilbo shed his blanket and stood up, marching smartly over to where Dwalin and Thorin stood. "If I think him a fool it's only because he obviously decided a haircut was best done using a blasted sword! He could have cut his own head off!"

Dwalin snorted at this, and Bilbo was certain Thorin muttered a low and sullen, "If my skill with a blade were that bad, I'd more than deserve to lose my head."

Pointedly ignoring them, Bilbo rolled his eyes and set his jaw; prepared to stand up to both of them if he must. He knew now after spending so long with dwarves that they would respect one who spoke up more than one who was easily cowed and intimidated. "Dwalin, there's no need for you to be yelling so early-"

"There is when he-"

"Ah, enough, that's quite enough thank you." Bilbo met the warriors' gaze unflinchingly and held up a hand to stop him from interrupting further, feeling some good humour in Dwalin's flabbergasted expression at being hushed by a hobbit. "I can't pretend to know why this has you all quite so riled up," here he spared a quick glance to the rest of the assembled group, who had the good grace to quickly look away from the spectacle before them. "But I can't help but think it's all a little ridiculous, forgive me if that insults you somehow; but honestly it's not as if he's lopped off his arm. And frankly if anyone in this Ered Luin of yours loses respect for him for this, they can't be much of a good sort."

Seeing that Dwalin's jaw was working as he grit his teeth and clearly prepared to answer back, Bilbo turned from him to Thorin in turn.

"As for you, majesty. We'd best do something about this." He beckoned a bewildered looking Ori over then; smiling broadly when the youngest of the Company shuffled closer. "May I borrow those scissors of yours, Ori?"

Fumbling a little given the tense atmosphere from before, Ori rooted about in his belt pouch before producing a small pair of scissors he used for cutting thread; like most things the Company had with them, they were a little battered from travel, but would work well enough. "Ah, here you go, Bilbo."

"Thank you."

Not waiting for any further disagreement, Bilbo grasped Thorin by the arm and all but dragged him away from Dwalin, making a small detour to his own pack where he pulled out a comb he'd bought for himself whilst in Laketown. He noticed as he crouched how Thorin's fingers finally relaxed and let the hair he'd cut fall to the ground, the braids and beads amongst it. Quickly, so as not to be noticed, Bilbo darted a hand out and grabbed the braids with their beads still attached and pocketed them whilst Thorin was distracted by glaring back to where Dwalin stood muttering with their companions.

Standing, Bilbo took their leader by the arm once more and led him further away from the camp. It was only then; turning shame faced from the worried looks of his nephews, did Thorin speak. "Where exactly are you taking me, Master Baggins?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious, Thorin. I'm going to tidy up the mess you've made for yourself there." He nodded at him, indicating the hair that had been hacked off with little thought and so unfortunately had ended up all different lengths. "Hopefully you'll look less like someone attacked you with gardening shears then dragged you through a blackberry bush once I'm finished, not that I'm an expert mind-"

"My shame should not be rectified in any way."

"You're speaking nonsense again, O' King. Since your fellow dwarves were as fidgety as mice when they saw you like this, I can only imagine the shame is bad enough as it is. At least let's make it so you don't get weird looks from men, elves, and whoever else we run into from here on in."

Thorin did not reply to this, though Bilbo was sure he growled a soft, "I could care less about the opinions of men and oath-breakers."

Bilbo deigned to ignore that and instead continued in silence until they reached an old tree stump out of sight of the camp. Bilbo sat upon it and pointed to the ground before him. "Sit."

It was a mark of how bad Thorin must be feeling, he mused with a twinge of sympathy, because like a chastised dog their leader dropped to the grass without argument and glared off toward the forest.

He could assess the damage much better from here; and now that the sun was beginning to rise higher, he would have better light to work by. Sighing with as much patience as he could muster, the hobbit muttered quietly to himself as he carded his fingers through the ruined hair, deciding what could be done with it. "You know… I have vaguely had all this explained to me; the well… the hair and beard thing, but I have to confess I've never really understood it. The importance of it all I suppose. It's a bit beyond a hobbit. We tend to keep our hair short after all. And we have no beards to speak of anyway." He tried for light-hearted and smiled wanly, scrunching his nose as he considered the best length to cut what was left of Thorin's once long mane of hair.

"I would not expect an outsider to understand, and I do not mean that callously. Dwarves keep things to ourselves at the best of times." Thorin's voice, for all it still held a weighty kind of sorrow was soft and seemed quite willing to divulge such things. "It probably seems utterly ridiculous to you, and more than a little dramatic; however I suppose the best way to describe it would be… what I've done here is as if I'd disfigured myself in some way, or had a public humiliation in penance for some sin or law broken." His brows furrowed trying to explain it, but found there was little he could do to make Bilbo understand it better.

"Thorin," Bilbo breathed. His hands had stilled, not yet even begun trimming. "I thought we'd discussed this; the quest; that we couldn't open the door, it's not your fault. You don't have to punish yourself for something nobody could control."

"I should know it, but I still feel responsible. I led you all to such great peril and have nothing to show for it. I have failed, again and again I have failed, and it deserves some punishment surely."

"No," Bilbo's reply was resolute, especially when he heard the broken quality of his companion's voice. "Failure or no, none of this has been down to you. Every grim battle and trial we've come across, you've managed to see us through them. The fact you've managed to keep me in one piece for so long is a miracle I'd say." Bilbo gave a self-depreciating little laugh, and had been about to make a cut at Thorin's hair when the dwarf turned to him, eyes almost angry.

"Do not belittle your own deeds, Master Baggins. For one so untrained and unused to battle and travelling; you've done wonders. Sneaking us from under that sprite's nose was proof of that; if saving my life before wasn't enough."

"Well I hardly think- I… it wasn't really anything- I… thank you, Thorin. It means a lot to hear you say that, truly." He trailed off, cheeks rather warm at the praise before returning to his no nonsense approach from before. "Right, stay still now won't you? Unless you'd like a nicked ear to go with your haircut."

If Bilbo hadn't known any better he could have sworn there was humour in the dwarf king's voice when he replied with, "Very well, I'm at your command then, Master Baggins."

Flustered still from the praise and the teasing quality of his companion's voice, Bilbo huffed and sputtered mostly to himself. "'At your command' what rot, I couldn't command a troupe of well trained dogs let alone the king of a bunch of unruly dwarves."

For all Thorin had seemed amused when he'd spoken before and had finally stilled enough to let Bilbo work, the hobbit could still tell that the failure of their quest and the penance he'd just doled out upon himself were plaguing him. He'd gone very quiet ('majestically brooding' Fíli and Kíli would call it), and with every snip of the scissors Thorin all but flinched as if the further cutting of his hair caused some kind of spiritual pain.

Gradually Thorin's uneasiness lessened and the hair that had woefully resembled a bird's nest began to look presentable once more. Little passed between them save for the soft ' _snick_ ' of the scissors, and Bilbo's occasional quiet murmur as he regarded his work; running fingers and comb through dark, silver-streaked hair to separate a new section that required a trim here and there.

"A little late for it now but… you do know what you're doing, don't you?" Although almost lazy in tone, Thorin's voice held a small edge of wariness that caused Bilbo to shake his head, lips quirked in a wry smile.

"Yes Thorin, I know what I'm doing. I've self barbered quite a number of times you know, you needn't worry," he hummed contemplatively over another section of hair before snipping away. "Which reminds me, my hair's been allowed to grow far too long on this little venture. I should probably use these scissors on myself once we're done here."

Thorin snorted derisively and waved a hand as if shooing a pesky fly. "That would be a pity; it's just started to look a respectable length for a dwarf."

Bilbo snickered at that and gave the hair carded between his fingers a light tug in reprimand. "Did you forget I'm not a dwarf? I look completely ridiculous by hobbit standards."

"Ah, so in that case I would be completely acceptable in your Shire now. Perhaps I should tell the rest of the Company they must cut their hair and beards as well then."

Shaking his head, Bilbo quietly marvelled how their leader could joke about something that had clearly caused him such hurt not minutes before. "Oh not nearly," he retorted with a grin. "You'd have to completely shave your beard and lose those awful boots if you're looking to be considered anything but a barbarian in Hobbiton."

"Ach, I'm not going to even consider that; a barbarian I remain then, and proudly so."

"Thank goodness, I was beginning to worry for a moment there."

"Worry?" Thorin echoed with mild interest, and Bilbo noted that now he no longer feared the outcome of the haircut he had actually relaxed enough to close his eyes in a manner almost as if half-asleep. Something about that was heartening, the hobbit mused; that Thorin trusted him that much.

"Yes, Thorin… I was afraid you and your company would all want to adopt a hobbit way of life when we returned to the Shire and I'd have to buy waistcoats for you all."

Thorin snorted at that as if picturing such a thing. "That, Master Baggins; would be a terrifying sight."

Perhaps not terrifying Bilbo thought, but certainly amusing. Imagining his dwarf friends in clothing deemed fashionable in the Shire nearly had the hobbit wheezing and he had to pause in his task for a moment. Thorin turned to him with a raised brow, trying to hide the upward curl of his own lips as he spoke in a very serious tone. "Come now, Bilbo it isn't that funny; personally I think Dwalin would look very fetching in that waistcoat, shirt, and short trouser combination you're so fond of."

Bilbo very nearly howled with laughter, discarding the scissors for a moment so he could clap a hand over his mouth and try to stem the giggles eeking out of him. "T-Thorin- don't! Oh, Yavanna bless him; he'd look _awful_!"

"I'll tell him you said as much," Thorin's face was suitably smug, causing Bilbo to flap his hands in panicked manner, eyes widening at the threat.

"Oh nonono, no; don't you dare; he'll string me up from a tree in Mirkwood! A-and I'll tell him you were the one suggesting he should wear such clothes in the first place; so hah! We'll _both_ be strung up from trees then."

"More than likely he'd just knock us both out with a solid cuff to the head. I doubt he'd want to bother with the hassle of stringing us up anywhere."

Bilbo chuckled and grumbled good-naturedly about 'insufferable dwarves' before picking up the scissors once more and indicating for Thorin to turn his head again so he could finish his work.

Thankfully there was little more he could do. For all Thorin's hair was now mournfully short, it was at least all one length. If Bilbo could hazard a guess, it was probably about the same length as his own hair had been all those months before when this quest first began, maybe a touch shorter. However, there was one lock of hair he had left untouched; hanging over Thorin's right ear.

As Bilbo set aside the scissors, Thorin began to run his own fingers through his hair to feel what Bilbo had done, he paused in confusion at the errant lock and spared Bilbo a confused look. "Did you miss a bit?"

"No, no. I just thought… well." Reaching into his pocket, Bilbo produced one of the braids Thorin had cut off and worked the bead off the end of it; holding it out to his friend. Bilbo was not particularly well versed on gems or precious metals, but even he could tell a kings' beads, even one in exile, would likely be worth a pretty penny. For all the months on the road had tarnished them a little, the beads were finely crafted and had to be made from silver at the very least, or something similar. "There wasn't enough hair left on the other side for you to have two matching braids as normal, but I thought perhaps you'd like to have one at least."

Thorin's face darkened somewhat and he grumbled softly in Khuzdûl before frowning at the hobbit. "I do not think you understand this at all, Master Baggins. I cannot- I do not deserve to wear any braids or beads."

"Thorin, we've been through all this. Nobody is blaming you; you are not a failure to yourself, to your people… not to anyone. There is no need to punish yourself so much. Please, for the love of your kin if not yourself, just keep one braid. They love you and respect you, but this is making you suffer and that in turn causes them suffering I'm sure. I know I don't know anything about dwarfish honour or whatever this is; but surely it's not worth so much hurt when those you claim to have wronged don't even blame you."

Bilbo stayed silent then, letting the emotions flit across Thorin's face as he contemplated the hobbit's words. After what seemed an age, Thorin's expression softened and he sighed heavily. His hands reaching up to automatically begin braiding the longer strands of hair beside his ear. "I cannot deny that… when you've put it in such a way. If my punishment would hurt them more than my failings, then I cannot in good conscience continue like this."

He finished off the braid in a matter of moments and produced from his pocket a thin leather tie, securing the braid with that and pointedly ignoring the bead Bilbo offered to him. "I will wear the braid, but not the bead."

"Why ever not?" Bilbo huffed in exasperation, shoulders sagging. "These are obviously valuable."

"Valuable they may be, but not deserved."

Bilbo went to argue further, but felt his resolve slipping. They would just be going in circles if he tried; arguing the same points over and over. Sighing, Bilbo tugged the other bead from his pocket and held them out beseechingly to the king. "Then what would you suggest I do with them?"

"Discard 'em, as I had done earlier."

"I will do no such thing. These are _yours_ , Thorin."

"If you will not discard them, then feel free to keep them for yourself, but I'll not be accepting them back." Thorin's voice held an air of finality that had Bilbo feeling all the more determined to argue his point.

"Very well, I shall keep them, but only until you see you're more than worthy of these and then I'll return them." Arms folded and chin tilted defiantly, Bilbo decided that two could play this game of wills.

Thorin glowered, but after a moment of floundering for an argument, simply threw up his hands in defeat and grumbled. "Ach, do as you wish, seems you always do anyway."

Had Bilbo not been feeling both sympathetic and a little irritated by the king he would have laughed then at the almost childish dismissal. Instead, he allowed himself a small but triumphant smirk and rolled the beads around his palm as he glanced down at them once more. "Good to know you can see reason. Then it's settled; I'll be keeping these, for now anyway."

Herein lay a small problem, however. Bilbo _was_ happy to keep the beads, but he wasn't sure _where_ exactly he could keep them. Bitter experience from their time in the goblin tunnels had taught him that backpacks could be lost, and clothes rarely made a long journey intact. As such, Bilbo hesitated to slip the beads back into his pocket, and wasn't overly keen on the idea of placing them amongst other expendable belongings in his pack either.

He worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment in thought before recalling their conversation from earlier regarding the sorry state of his own hair. Far too often he'd found himself tossing his head or blowing hair from his face like an irritated pony. Now, he had just the thing to help him, not to mention the beads had survived their journey in Thorin's hair before now, his should be no different.

Ignoring the inquisitive look he was gaining from Thorin, Bilbo placed the beads in his lap and began to separate some hair to the side of his face into three sections, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.

Trying to recall how he'd seen his companions accomplish their own braids, Bilbo started haltingly, very slowly moving the hair between his fingers.

He could tell even without a mirror to see that he was making poor progress with it, and it was the sheer determination on Thorin's face not to laugh at him that finally made him stop and glare at the dwarf. "Did you wish to say something?"

"What in Mahal's name are you doing, Bilbo?"

"You are one for asking obvious questions aren't you," Bilbo replied waspishly, but checked himself and sighed, tugging at the braid to show him. "I really don't think these beads will survive the journey home if I put them in my pack or pocket; but they seemed to last well enough in your hair, so I thought I might as well do the same and actually put them to their purpose." Thorin's gaze, if possible, became even more curious and Bilbo squirmed a little before adding. "Besides, I already said my hair was getting long, braiding my hair like you lot do might keep it out of the way."

"I assumed you were just going to cut it; you said you might."

Bilbo flushed and shrugged his shoulders, nose twitching as he considered. "Well I suppose it's not quite so bad," he grinned then, a little roguish and continued. "Besides I'd quite like to see the look those stuffy old gaffers and cousins of mine give me if I return home with long hair and dwarf braids."

Thorin surprised him with a loud bark of laughter, and shook his head; matching Bilbo's grin with one of his own. "I fear we've been a bad influence on you. Gandalf said you were from a very good family, very respectable. This doesn't seem like something a respectable gentlehobbit would do."

"Neither is running off into the blue with a bunch of dwarves, but here we are."

"Yes, well… you're making a fine mess of it. Do hobbits not know how to braid?

Bilbo grumbled beneath his breath, but the lingering smile made it clear he wasn't at all bothered by Thorin's words. "Hobbit lasses might, at least the younger ones. As I've said, for the most our hair is kept short, and the lasses; although they do seem fond of ribbons and flowers and ornaments; I don't think braiding is particularly in fashion. Besides which our hair tends towards very thick and curly, seems like a pain to braid."

"Poor excuses, Bilbo. Our hair is usually thick as well and we manage well enough… So no braids in the Shire? What a boring lot you must be."  Thorin's voice held that teasing ring to it again, and Bilbo squawked in mock indignation.

A squawk that petered off into a confused little noise as Thorin plucked the poor attempt of a braid from Bilbo's fingers with a small ' _tsk_ ' and began to rectify the paltry effort with practiced ease.

Bilbo went very still, a wry smile still curving his lips as his ears fairly burned with the force of his blush. "You don't have to…"

"You made my hair presentable… or at least I assume you have, I've yet to see the result… so it's only fair I do the same."

Huffing a quiet laugh, Bilbo didn't dare move until the dwarf had finished braiding both sides of his head just over the ears, much the same as Thorin's old braids had been, and secured both with the silver beads.

"That seems much better; it's not all getting in my face now at least." Bilbo hummed in contemplation once Thorin had moved away and declared the braids finished. Taking one of them between thumb and forefinger, Bilbo nearly went cross-eyed in order to admire it. "They're very well done too, thank you, Thorin."

"You're welcome," Thorin replied, pushing himself up off the ground and absently brushing loose blades of grass from his clothes. On instinct, the dwarf went to push his long hair back over his shoulder, only to remember it was no longer there and grimaced. Noticing the look, Bilbo stood from his own seat upon the tree stump and patted his arm consolingly.

-

Once back at camp they were treated to a variety of differing looks, all of them lingering far longer than Bilbo would have liked. He wasn't particularly bothered (though he did wonder if a hobbit with braids looked quite so odd as to warrant staring), but he was concerned Thorin might feel offended by the others gazing so at his now close cropped hair. Thankfully, it seemed that their leader was more interested in reprimanding his nephews for something they'd said to him in Khuzdûl upon their return. As he merely seemed irritated and not unduly upset, Bilbo thought it was safe to assume they were just being their usual miscreant selves and had not somehow affronted their uncle regarding his lack of hair.

Bilbo quickly found Ori seated around the campfire with his brothers, Bombur, and Dwalin and returned the lad's scissors, giving his thanks once again.

Sitting down in the space between their resident chef and the warrior, Bilbo began to help serve breakfast. The whole hair debacle had taken some time to rectify, and by now the rest of the camp was well into their usual morning routine of packing up their belongings and making food. He did his best to ignore the speculative looks he was gaining, and was quite successful in doing so, before Nori finally decided to break the silence regarding his new appearance (and was swiftly elbowed by Dori for it).

"What's with the braids then? You didn't have those when you went traipsing off with our king earlier."

"Good to know you powers of observation are as astute as always," Bilbo replied tartly, causing Dwalin to snort into his plate of last night's leftover stew. "If you must know my hair was annoying me, getting too long for a hobbit. So I decided to braid it."

Bilbo took a spoonful of his own food and chewed peacefully, waiting for the nosy questions he was sure would follow from their pickpocket and spymaster. He didn't have long to wait.

"I see," there was a decidedly sly quality to Nori's voice now that had Bilbo just a little on edge. Rather than show his discomfort, the hobbit merely straightened his back, sniffed and awaited whatever would come next. "They’re very nicely done too, those braids. Didn't think it was a particularly hobbitish thing to do; at least from what I saw when we passed through the Shire last."

Shrugging easily, Bilbo replied honestly; knowing Nori would be able to tell if he tried to hide the fact. "It isn't; Thorin was kind enough to do these for me."

There was a flurry of activity as Dori seemed to inhale some of his food and promptly choked on it, Nori companionably thumped him on the back as Ori fussed over his elder brother until the coughing fit passed.  

Taking this time to garner the reactions around him, Bilbo found that Dwalin had paused with a spoonful of stew halfway to his mouth and was looking at him incredulously, and Bombur was grinning in a very pleased manner but refused to meet Bilbo's gaze.

The hobbit wasn't a fool by any means, clearly something about Thorin braiding his hair was significant and although he knew not what it was, Bilbo felt he should probably set things straight before gums got to flapping.

"He did them because it seems I can't braid to save my life. He was making sure I didn't end up looking like an idiot." He elaborated, but unfortunately although this seemed to satisfy most of them; it didn't dissuade Nori.

"Nice beads too, they're Thorin's aren't they?"

All eyes were on him again and Bilbo sighed… really, this nonsense was enough to give a hobbit indigestion… and answered with measured patience and care. "Yes, these are Thorin's beads. He doesn't exactly have use for them at the moment and was kind enough to let me keep them."

Hoping that would be the last of it, Bilbo got back to work demolishing his plate of food, eyes resolutely not straying to his eating companions again.

"Funny thing though; he's still kept one braid, so why not keep one of his beads? He needn't have given both to you."

Bilbo rolled his eyes and was about to retaliate when Dwalin mercifully beat him to it. "Nori, shut it! It's too early for you to be twittering on like an old fishwife. One more word and I'll make sure Thorin has you digging the latrines at every camp we make from here to the Shire."

Bilbo grinned, ducking his head over his plate to hide it, and very nearly pitched right into his food when Dwalin gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I should thank you, burglar… I can't say I'm happy about what happened this mornin'… but at least he looks less like his head's been chewed on by a warg now."

"Y-yes well… it's nothing really- but you're welcome, Dwalin. I was- well I'm always happy to help."

Breakfast passed quite peacefully after that, and they broke camp in good time, making sure to leave as few traces as possible of their presence there lest the orc pack still be on their tails.

It was only as they set out on the road later that Bilbo was reminded again of the odd conversation over breakfast. Nori had dropped back from the company of his brothers in order to talk quietly between the princes. It was the furtive glances sent his way coupled with Kíli's triumphant crowing of, "Mahal's beard, I _knew_ it!" which made the hobbit hunch his shoulders and groan audibly. Why did he have a distinct feeling that he was going to end up with the mother of all headaches before this day was out?

 


End file.
